


Givin' Yourself to Me Can Never Be Wrong

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Mick Rory, Bottom Barry, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Negotiation, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mentions of Past Eddie Thawne/Iris West/Barry Allen, Mentions of Past Sara Lance/Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, Oral Sex, Team Flash, Threesome, Trans Cisco Ramon, pride month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Well,” Caitlin says. “It’s nice to have you here, anyway. The more allies at Pride, the better.” </i>
</p><p>  <i>Leonard’s head tilts on a dime like an animal that’s found easy prey. “What makes you think Mick and I are straight?”</i></p><p>Happy Pride Month Everyone! </p><p>Enjoy some bisexual!Barry, trans!Cisco, aromantic!Mick, awkward Hartley/Wally flirting, and, of course, a ColdFlashWave threesome, the cherry on top of this magical sun<i>gay</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Givin' Yourself to Me Can Never Be Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! First of all, happy Pride month. I've been working on this fic since May, hoping to get it done before the end of June, and while I just barely made it, I still made it, okay? Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave me lovely kudos and comments!
> 
> Title taken from Marvin Gaye's iconic song, [Let's Get it On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBgnxDNdNmQ&spfreload=10)
> 
> (Also, just as a side-note, who do I speak to about making _Let's Get it On_ an official queer anthem? Like, my God, it's kinda perfect, am I right?)

Joe raps his knuckles impatiently against the flat top of the newel at the end of banister. He leans over to look up the staircase, but it’s a useless endeavor as he’s unable to see past the wall leading to the hallway. 

“You almost ready up there?” the detective calls, casting a quick, wary glance at his watch. 

Iris is already waiting by the door, small black purse slung over her right shoulder. Wally sits in the living room, perched on the arm of the sofa, leg bouncing anxiously up and down and up and down, as he chews on his lip. 

“Barr,” Joe calls again, quickly losing his patience. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” 

The shouted apology and the quick stomping of feet against the floor are heard seconds before Barry himself swings around the corner and bounds quickly down the first section of stairs. He stops dead on the landing as he’s hit with the sound of Iris’s lilting laughter and looks up at her with wide, troubled eyes. 

“Wow, Barry,” the journalist says, a hint of disbelief colouring her tone. “Don’t you look…” 

She trails off, unsure of how to finish the statement, and Barry groans. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” he asks. 

Iris quickly shakes her head. “No, not at all,” she replies. “You look hot, Barry.” 

Barry looks doubtfully down at the loose-fitting tank top draped over his shoulders. The deep scoop of the neckline and the arm holes exposes more skin than he’s entirely comfortable with, and the jeans fit tight, even for him.

“So, you don’t think it’s too much?” he asks again, still uncertain. 

Iris scoffs. “Barry, it’s Pride,” she replies. “You’ll probably be the most modestly dressed person there. Well, other than Wally, I mean.” 

Wally flushes, moves abruptly to stand, and scratches at the back of his neck. “Look, I’ve never been to a Pride parade before,” he stammers. “I don’t exactly know what the protocol is.” 

“Well, for one, there is no protocol,” Joe says, chuckling at his son’s odd choice of words. “It’s not something you can mess up. You go, you celebrate, show your support. Simple as that.”

Wally nods absently, a bit like a bobblehead, as Joe speaks. “Yeah, okay, cool,” he replies once his father is finished, though he still looks a bit nervous, unsure. 

“Seriously, it’ll be fine, Wally,” Barry adds, picking up on the younger man’s discomfort. “I know Pride might seem a little aggressive, but we won’t leave you alone, I promise.” 

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about that,” Wally says quickly. 

Joe frowns. “But you are worried about  _ something _ ?” he infers. 

“No, it’s nothing,” Wally insists. “Come on, Dad. We’ve gotta go. You’re supposed to be marching with the CCPD, and we’re gonna be late.” 

“I think we all know who’s to thank for that,” Joe quips, leveling Barry with a pointed glare. 

The speedster winces. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I lost track of time.” 

“Yeah, well, not all of us have the superpowers to afford that luxury,” Joe replies. It’s all in good fun though and, soon, all four members of the West-Allen family are out the door and en route to the annual Central City Pride Parade. 

 

* * *

 

“Damn, son!” 

Cisco’s loud, slow, drawl causes a steady flush of heat to creep up Barry’s neck as he approaches the group of scientists waiting for him on the curb. Caitlin laughs and shakes her head, loose curls brushing against rosy pink cheeks. Hartley remains stoic and unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“Remind me again why you wear so many layers when you have a body that looks like that?” Cisco continues, prompting Barry to blush again and look down at his feet. 

“I don’t really like the attention,” Barry replies sheepishly. 

Harley scoffs. “Leave the poor little twink alone, Ramon,” he says. 

Cisco turns and glares. “You can’t tell me what to do, Hartley,” he retorts. 

As Cisco continues glaring, Caitlin approaches Iris with a bright, excited smile. “Your dress turned out amazing,” the doctor squeals. The tank dress that hugs the journalist’s every curve does look stunning, white jersey fabric spattered artfully with bright pops of colour. 

Iris beams. “Your shorts, too,” she replies. The bleached cutoffs are saturated in a gradient of rainbow dye, the sheer, flowy blouse paired with them a mix of lace and white chiffon.  

“I’m just glad they turned out at all,” Caitlin says. “I’m not really a DIY kind of person.” 

“You’re telling me,” Iris laughs. 

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Hartley says, cutting over the women’s chatter, as he approaches Wally, who’s trailing nervously by Barry’s side. Wally wipes his palm along the leg of his pants before taking Hartley’s proffered hand and shaking it. 

“I’m Hartley,” the brunette says. His smile is slow and confident, his eyes narrowed like a cat’s. When Wally smiles back he’s shyer, more hesitant. 

“Wally,” the younger man replies. “I’m Barry’s…”

He trails off, unsure of the how to describe the strange family dynamic, and Hartley is quick to try filling in the blank. “Boyfriend?” he supplies. 

Wally flushed. “Oh, no,” he says quickly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m Iris’s brother.” 

Hartley smiles again. “I see,” he replies. 

“Hey, losers!”

The cheerful greeting is accompanied by the sound of high heel boots hitting against the cement. Lisa Snart approaches with a broad smile and a coquettish wave, leather pants resting high on her waist, a rainbow-studded bustier leaving both her shoulders and a tantalizing strip of her midriff bare. 

Behind her, Leonard and Mick trail along, expressions blank and unreadable. Barry feels his heart skip a beat, breath suddenly caught in his throat. He hasn’t seen Leonard since the older man walked out of the West house just before Christmas. He’s hit with the memory of their bodies pressed firm together, lips only inches apart. It sends an involuntary shiver up Barry’s spine, and, absently, he licks his lips. 

“Hey, Lis,” Cisco greets. A hand drops to her hip like an anchor as he leans up to kiss her, quick and chaste on the lips. When Cisco draws away, the reception he offers the other Rogues is far less welcoming. “Snart. Rory.” 

“Nice shirt,” Mick rumbles. 

Cisco glances down at the autobot insignia printed in the center of his chest above the words  _ transgender more than meets the eye _ . “Barry and I agreed to wear our novelty tees,” the engineer explains.

Barry backs him up by holding out the ends of his tank top demonstratively.  _ My bi-fi signal is strong _ it boasts below the image of a cartoon computer. “Felicity got it for me,” he adds. 

Mick scoffs. “You ain’t special, Kid,” he says. 

“She gave Sara the same one,” Leonard clarifies when he notices the beginnings of an incensed furrow developing between the speedster’s brows. The furrow then turns into a small, dissapointed frown, and the older man chuckles. “It’s still a good look for you,” he says, voice measured and low, and Barry can’t help but blush, smiling timidly in return.

“I’m surprised to see you two here,” Caitlin says conversationally, directing the question at Leonard and Mick with a pleasant, if forced, smile. 

“I’ll admit,” Leonard begins, sighing and crossing his arms at the wrists. “I’m not much of a parade person.” 

“But I asked so nicely,” Lisa cuts in with an impish smile. 

Leonard scoffs but shakes his head fondly. “Right. And I figured it would be better to humour her than to keep listening to her whine,” he teases. 

Lisa glowers. “Fuck you, Lenny.” 

Barry’s chest feels tight, like his heart might drop to his feet at any moment. He knows it’s ridiculous to be so upset over Leonard’s casual dismissal of Pride. The older man’s sexuality is the least of what’s keeping them apart. Still, if the door of possibility had previously been left a hairsbreadth ajar, it’s as though it’s firmly been shut now, deadbolt thundering morosely into place.  

“Well,” Caitlin says, cutting through Barry’s sour train of thought. “It’s nice to have you here, anyway. The more allies at Pride, the better.” 

Leonard’s head tilts on a dime like an animal that’s found easy prey. “What makes you think Mick and I are straight?” he asks. 

Caitlin blanches. “Oh,” she stammers, blinking fast, like the Earth’s suddenly tilted on its axis and her brain is struggling to make sense of the new world order. “I just assumed.” 

“Haven’t you heard, Doc?” Mick asks, sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess that makes you an ass.” 

The stark white of Caitlin’s horror is replaced with the bright red flush of embarrassment. She takes it like a champ, though, laughing almost hysterically and shaking her head. “I guess so,” she agrees. “Sorry about that.” 

Leonard shrugs. “Don’t sweat it,” he drawls. “Easy mistake.” 

And suddenly, the door of possibility is opened once more. 

Barry wants to dwell on it, he really does, but before he can, Cisco interrupts by checking his watch.  “It’s 1:59,” the engineer announces, shooting Barry a pointed look. “The parade should be starting any minute now.” 

“Right,” Barry says, chewing anxiously at his lip. He’s got the Flash Suit stowed in Joe’s police cruiser, an appearance by the Scarlet Speedster planned for the parade. Lisa still doesn’t know his secret identity, though, even if he and Cisco have talked about telling her. Mick, he’s not so sure about, though he imagines that, by traveling through time and befriending of other heroes, he’s probably found out by now. 

“I’m just gonna run and grab some water,” Barry announces, backing a few steps away from the group. 

Lisa frowns. “Caitlin’s got a whole bottle,” she says, pointing to the aforementioned bottle in the doctor’s hand. 

“Right,” Barry says, sounding unsure. “But actually, I think I’m coming down with something.” He clears his throat for emphasis. “I’m just gonna go buy another one.” 

Lisa shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says, though she doesn’t sound convinced.

Before the former thief can poke any more holes in his story, Barry takes his leave. Ducking and weaving through the crowd at normal speed is tricky, but eventually he manages, grabbing his suit from the car and changing in the blink of an eye. 

The second The Flash is spotted zipping between the marchers and the elaborate floats, a cacophonous uproar of cheering erupts from the crowd of spectators lining the streets. Barry’s heart swells in his chest, an uncontrollable burst of laughter pushing past his lips. Dopamine and norepinephrine surge through his system, the euphoria coursing through his veins better than any runner’s high the speedster’s ever experienced. 

Barry marches with the CCPD. He marches with the mayor. He marches with a group of queens down Main Street, and a support group for LGBT teens shortly thereafter. He jumps aboard the bi pride float and hoists the flag proudly over his head, the lightweight fabric catching the wind and billowing out behind him like a cape. 

He’s helping the local PFLAG chapter hand out pride flags, fridge magnets, and information pamphlets when he feels a tiny hand tug on his arm. 

“Mr. Flash?” 

Barry turns, surprised, and catches sight of the cutest kid he’s ever seen. Big brown eyes blink up at him from behind a mop of tightly wound curls. 

“Hey, there,” Barry says, smiling sweetly. He holds out a small paper flag on a cardboard stick in offering and the kid, who’s perched in his mother’s arms, hesitantly reaches out to take it. “What’s your name?” 

“Jamal,” the kid mumbles. He can’t be much older than four, and Barry’s heart melts. 

“Are you having fun, Jamal?” the speedster asks. 

“Yeah,” Jamal replies. 

Barry nods. “That’s good,” he says. “And who are you here with?” 

Jamal looks up at the woman holding him, and then glances back at the woman standing just behind her, pressed up along her back. “Mommy and Ma,” the preschooler replies. 

Barry glances up at Jamal’s mothers and offers them a smile as well. “Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” he offers. “Enjoy the parade.” 

“You, too,” the taller of the two women replies. Then, her expression hardens, suddenly serious. Barry is caught off guard by the weight of her gaze, and he subconsciously adjusts his posture, spine straightening.

“Thank you for being here today,” the woman continues. 

Solemnly, Barry nods. “I wouldn’t have missed it,” he replies. 

The gratitude on the couple’s face sticks with Barry has he runs back to the car to change into his civilian clothes. When he had come out to Joe in high school, the detective had been nothing but supportive, but he had been quick to warn Barry about the adversity he might face. And Barry knew, of course, that things wouldn’t all be smooth sailing. He knows even now, walking through a sea of love and friendship and rainbows, that as much as Pride is a place of comfort and solidarity, it’s also an uncomfortable reminder that such comfort and solidarity are even needed in the first place. 

So, it’s fair to say he’s off his game when he gets back to the group, caught somewhere between exuberant euphoria and quiet reflection. 

“You missed The Flash,” Iris announces, and Barry knows his face absolutely does not do what he tells it to. 

“That’s too bad,” the speedster replies, his voice hollow and insincere, and he’s immediately met with a sea of strange looks. 

Quickly, Barry opens his mouth to correct himself, but he’s abruptly cut off as Lisa scoffs. “Please,” the brunette says, eyes rolling. “I’m not stupid. I know you didn’t go for water. You didn’t even bother to bring back a bottle.” 

Barry glances quickly down at his empty hands and winces. 

“As if I hadn’t already figured you out,” Lisa adds. “You don’t exactly do subtle, Allen. Or should I say  _ Flash _ ?” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Barry says in a rush, and Lisa scoffs again. 

“Yeah, right,” she says. “You know you can trust me, Barry. Otherwise you wouldn’t be letting me date your adorable little gadget man.” 

Cisco pouts. “Could you maybe not make it sound like our entire relationship hinges on other people’s approval?” he asks. 

Lisa smiles sweetly at him and giggles, her laughter breezy and saccharine. “‘Course it doesn’t, Cutie,” she replies before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss against the engineer’s cheek.  

After the parade wraps up, Lisa cajoles the group into going out for pub food and drinks until the bars open. Barry doesn’t expect to enjoy himself as much as he does, having never spent any amount of time with the three self-proclaimed Rogues that wasn’t, at least to some degree, hostile. 

It’s different. Lisa’s cunning seduction turns to silver-tongued teasing. Mick’s unhinged madness becomes boisterous, light-hearted joy. 

Leonard though, Leonard is everything Barry ever thought he could be. Every glimmer of a genuine smile behind his icy smirk. Every gentle, soft-spoken word uttered like a friendly embrace. Leonard is more complex, more layered, than his criminal persona lets on, but Barry knows this already, has seen brief hints of the man behind the Captain’s mask before. Sharing a booth at Saints and Sinners. A vulnerable, intimate moment with a body cooling at their feet. Pressed up against the fireplace in Barry’s childhood home. Eyes locked across a pane of security glass, voices raw and pitched low.  

The longer they spend together, the more Barry is certain that he hasn’t been imagining the spark of  _ something _ building between himself and the older man. Leonard keeps shooting him these looks, pointed and weighty, down the length of the table. It makes time slow to a crawl, running thick like molasses, like every time Barry’s ever used his powers to move faster than the rest of the world. Expect not. Because Barry’s stopped too. They’ve both stopped, stuck in the same breathless moment together like flies trapped in amber.

It makes Barry’s whole body ache for something he’s spent months telling himself he doesn’t want. 

Doesn’t need. 

By eight, Lisa deems it late enough to start hitting the clubs. They’re early enough to beat the lines, but the place they settle on, large and open, almost industrial-looking, is still packed wall to wall with people. Sporadic rainbows of flashing lights cut through the sickly-sweet fog permeating the air. 

“Hell yeah,” Cisco shouts over the noise of the pounding base. “Let’s get this party started.”  

“Let’s do shots,” Caitlin exclaims as a shirtless guy with abs of steel passes by carrying a tray of fluorescent blue shooters in tall, thin glasses that look entirely too much like test tubes for Barry’s comfort. They’re already a few rounds deep, and the alcohol, paired with the late-June heat and the sweaty, dancing bodies, has a delightfully pink flush spread across the doctor’s cheeks. 

“I’ll buy,” Hartley offers, running a hand through his hair to wrangle it, sweat already beading on his forehead. “As long as West doesn’t mind giving me a hand.” 

There’s no ambiguity as to which sibling Hartley means, pinning Wally with a heated gaze that has the younger man gulping. 

“Yeah, no problem,” Wally replies. Barry notices his hands shaking, but he quickly stuffs them into his pockets before the speedster can think much of it and follows Hartley toward the bar. 

As they wait for drinks, the group secures one of the few tables left open by the dancefloor. There aren’t enough seats for everyone, so Barry, Mick, and Leonard choose to stand instead. Lisa opts to lean her weight against Cisco's chest, his stool pulled back far enough that she’s able to fit comfortably between his open thighs and the table. 

“You smell nice,” Lisa remarks, tilting her head up to address the engineer.  

Cisco chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I mostly smell like sweat at this point,” he replies. “But thanks anyway.” 

Leaning down, Cisco gives Lisa a sweet, tender kiss. When they pull apart, their noses brush adorably, and both partners look like they have stars in their eyes. 

“Happy Pride,” Lisa whispers.

Cisco bumps their noses together once more and beams. “Happy Pride,” he replies.  

“This is a gay bar!” 

The pejorative words are hollered from nearby over the thundering music. Cisco and Lisa, along with the rest of the group, turn in their seats to isolate the source of the tactless remark and find it among a group of young, twenty-somethings that seem to hit every element of the ‘white gays’ stereotype flawlessly. Their apparent leader, tall and muscular with blonde hair and a tan Barry has little faith is actually real, takes a step forward challengingly. 

“Excuse me?” Lisa deadpans. Cisco’s eyebrows knit together, and his arms wrap more firmly around her waist. 

The blond practically sneers. “This is a gay bar,” he repeats. “In case you hadn’t noticed. So why don’t you and your boyfriend just fuck off already and stop invading gay spaces?” 

Leonard looks ready to kill, Barry notes nervously, but before the older man has a chance to do anything drastic, Lisa beats him to the punch. “First of all,” the brunette begins. Her voice is steely, and it sends a shiver down Barry’s spine. “Sexuality is a spectrum. Jackass. Don’t presume to know my orientation just because of who’s tongue I may or may not have shoved down my throat at any given moment. 

“And second,” Lisa continues, unrelenting. “My boyfriend? Has a vagina. So why don’t you and the rest of your little Pride Police kindly  _ fuck off _ instead?” 

Emphatically, Lisa lifts a hand and flips them off to a chorus of poorly restrained laughter. Cowed, the blond and his group turn and slink back out onto the dancefloor. 

Cisco dips his head and presses a fond kiss to Lisa’s shoulder, just beside the long, angry scar carved into her skin. 

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Iris chuckles, looking at the other woman with newfound respect. 

“Did we miss something?” 

It’s Harley speaking this time, looking to be filled in as he and Wally slide up alongside the group.

“Proof that my girlfriend’s a badass,” Cisco replies. 

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Like that wasn’t already obvious,” she says. 

Squeezing between Iris and Caitlin, Wally deposits a tray of milky brown shots on the table. 

“Screaming orgasms for everyone,” Hartley announces with a coquettish smirk. Caitlin grabs one and downs it immediately, then gives an enthusiastic, high-pitched shriek as she slams the glass back onto the table. 

Leonard huffs a laugh. “Seems like the good doctor’s got an alter ego of her own,” he observes. 

Barry laughs. “Caitlin’s certainly…” he trails off, looking for the right word. “Interesting,” he decides finally. “When she drinks.”

“I’m a woo girl, Barry,” the doctor slurs. She’s leaning heavily against Wally’s side, not that the younger man seems to mind. “I’ve tried to fight it, but it’s just who I am, you know? Inside.” 

Again, Barry chuckles. “I know, Cait,” he replies. “I know.” 

Suddenly, the song changes, and Caitlin sits up ramrod straight in her seat. “I love this song,” the doctor exclaims, and, faster than even Barry thinks he could manage, she’s on her feet, tugging Iris with her. 

“Wait, wait,” Iris urges. Caitlin stops pulling on Iris’s arm long enough for the journalist to down her own screaming orgasm, then the two women are off, making a bee-line toward a group of drag queens who’d asked them to dance when they’d first arrived. 

Leonard knocks back his own shot, then slides up behind Mick, wrapping an arm around his waist and speaking low and husky into his ear. “What do you say, partner?” he asks. “Care to dance?” 

Mick chuckles as he places his empty glass back on the table. “Thought you said public lewdness was for teenagers and sad old men,” the arsonist challenges. 

Leonard smirks. “I’m willing to make an exception,” he says. “Just this once.” 

Watching Leonard and Mick head out onto the dance floor together, Barry’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. That’s the one thing he can’t piece together, for all the eyes Leonard keeps making at him. He and Mick are obviously involved. So what’s the older man’s game? 

“I’m gonna go grab a bottle of water,” Barry announces to the foursome still gathered around the table, his stomach suddenly feeling like lead. 

“Is this another code or are you actually going for water this time?” Lisa asks. 

Barry chuckles. “No, I’m actually going for water,” he replies. 

“Then let me go with you,” the brunette offers, slipping out of Cisco’s arms. “It’s a thousand degrees in this place, and alcohol always dries me out, anyway.” 

Barry isn’t sure what to say to that, so he simply nods, waiting for Lisa to come up beside him before heading over to the bar. 

“This is fun,” Lisa shouts over the music and the enthusiastic chatter of the other patrons as they wait in line. She leaned heavily against Barry’s side, chin resting on his shoulder to speak directly into his ear. 

Barry is grateful for the small talk. Anything to avoid an awkward silence. “Yeah, it is,” he replies. 

“I know we haven’t always been on the greatest terms,” Lisa continues. “So thanks, I guess. For giving us a chance.” 

Barry’s brow furrows, not expecting the sudden gravitas from the woman. “Don’t sweat it,” he says. “I know there’s more to you guys than meets the eye.” 

Sardonically, Lisa scoffs. “You really are a saint, Allen.” 

Barry, lost for words, doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks out over the sea of bodies grinding shamelessly on the dance floor. Immediately, his eyes find Leonard, like a moth drawn to a flame. The older man has Mick wrapped around his back, their bodies moving in perfect synch to the debauched thrumming of the baseline. As much as Barry is jealous, he’s also undeniably turned on, a sharp heat pooling low in his belly as he watches the two men move together. 

“So, Mick and your brother,” Barry begins, tearing his eyes away from the hypnotic display to face Lisa once more. The brunette’s obviously caught him looking, and Barry’s cheeks flush with heat. “Are they, like, together?” he finishes lamely, scratching a hand through the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

Lisa frowns. “Yes and no,” she replies. “I don’t know. Lenny tried explaining it to me once, but it went over my head. He’s got all these fancy terms for things, queer this and  _ something _ -romantic that. I don’t know. Lenny always has to have categories for everything. Labels, so he can slot everything neatly in its place. It makes him feel comfortable, I think. In control.

“Mick, though,” Lisa continues with a small, pleased chuckle. “Mick’s like me. He doesn’t really care what you call any of this stuff, as long you’re not giving him shit about it. The gist of it though, from what I understand, is that he doesn’t do romance. And Lenny does. Which leads to an interesting disconnect, to say the least.” 

Reflexively, Barry nods in understanding, encouraging Lisa to go on. 

“They do love each other, in their own way,” the brunette affirms. “That much I know for sure. But Lenny, he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic.” 

Quick as a cat, she adds, “don’t tell him I told you that.” 

Barry chuckles and shakes his head. “I didn’t hear a thing,” the speedster promises. 

Lisa laughs too, head tipping back joyfully, hair brushing the bare skin of her exposed back. “Anyway,” she continues once her laughter subsides. “It’s not that Lenny and Mick aren’t committed to each other. It’s just that Len just needs certain things in a relationship that Mick doesn’t. So they work it out how they can. 

“Actually,” Lisa muses. “There was this assassin, while they were on the Waverider. Cute little blonde thing. You probably know her.” 

“Sara, yeah,” Barry agrees, nodding. 

“Right,” Lisa says. “Sara.” 

Finally, Barry and Lisa reach the front of the line. They shout requests for water over the cacophonous noise, then continue talking as they wait for the bartender to return with their orders. 

“She was good for them,” Lisa continues, chewing at her lip. “I know Mick really liked her. Of course, getting Lenny to talk about anything feelings-related is like pulling teeth, but it seemed as though he really liked her, too. And I think she felt the same.” 

“Felt?” Barry prompts, eyebrows knitting together curiously. 

Lisa shrugs. “When they got back, she decided to give things another go with her ex-girlfriend,” the brunette explains. Then, she reaches across the bar to grab her bottle of water from the bartender and pay her fee, and Barry does the same. 

“It’s not like there are hard feelings about it,” Lisa adds. “Lenny understands, and I do, too. Still, I’m a little bummed to see him lose out on something that obviously made him really happy.” 

Lisa opens her bottle and take a long, deep sip. When she pulls back, she scoffs and shakes her head dismissively. “I know you probably don’t understand any of that,” she says. “Most people don’t.” 

“No, no, no,” Barry says quickly, shaking his head, too. “I do. Trust me.” 

When Lisa gives him a skeptical look, the speedster presses on. “Iris and I were in a similar arrangement, actually,” he explains. “With her fiancé. He died before we had a chance to work out the particulars, but we both loved him, and each other, and I think he loved us, too. I mean, I know he loved Iris. Me? I’m not so sure.

“After he died,” Barry continues, sighing heavily. “It didn’t feel right for Iris and I to be together without him. It’s like there was something missing. We both knew it. Could feel it. So, yeah, I do understand, believe it or not.” 

Lisa is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “Sorry for your loss,” she says finally. 

Barry shrugs, aiming for nonchalant but definitely missing the mark. “That’s the way things go sometimes, I guess,” he replies. 

Celebratory mood temporarily quashed, the pair make their way back to the table through the throng of bodies in the club. Cisco is seated on one of the stools, waiting dutifully, but he’s on his own. Barry’s brows furrow as he scans the crowd for Wally, ready to save the younger man from any unwanted advances, and curious as to why he’d go off on his own in the first place.

It comes a surprise when Barry finally spots him out on the dance floor, pressed chest to chest with Hartley Rathaway of all people, arms wrapped loosely around the genius’ neck. Slowly, their noses brush, then Wally learns in and captures Hartley’s lips in a searing kiss. 

Barry’s eyebrows jump practically into his hairline, and he turns to Cisco with wide, incredulous eyes. “Since when are Wally and Hartley a thing?” he asks, his voice shrill with shock and disbelief. 

Cisco laughs outright. “Dude,” the engineer says. “They’ve been flirting all day.” 

Suddenly, Cisco’s grin turns teasing, and he gives Barry a pointed, somewhat judgemental look, eyebrows waggling. “Unless you were too busy doing something else to notice. Perhaps also flirting. Maybe.” 

Immediately, Barry flushes bright red. If anyone was going to see right through him, of course it would be Cisco. The speedster opens his mouth reflexively to defend himself, but doesn’t have a single coherent thought pulled together. Instead, he stammers lamely, and Cisco just laughs harder. 

Before Barry is able to save face, he’s forced to let the whole thing drop. Leonard and Mick are pushing through the crowd, one of Mick’s hands still resting possessively on Leonard’s waist, and heading right their way. 

When the two men arrive, Lisa greets them with a bright, uncompromising smile. “You can’t be danced out already,” she says. 

Mick shakes his head. “I’m heading out,” the arsonist replies. “If one more punk-ass kid tries calling me Daddy, I’m gonna set this whole place on fire. And I’ve been trying really hard not to do that lately.” 

Breezily, Lisa laughs. “Well, you’re no fun,” she teases. Still, she goes to his side and offers him a quick yet firm hug goodbye. 

“What about you, Lenny?” the brunette asks as she pulls out of Mick’s arms. “Leaving too?” 

“I don’t know,” Leonard replies with a small, dismissive shrug. While his words and his posture indicate indifference, the heated gaze he shoots Barry tells an entirely different story. “I think it might be worth sticking around.” 

Barry’s toes curl painfully in his shoes. He’s so incredibly fraught with lust he’s almost sick with it. He can feel the thick, unyielding need coating the back of his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Even when Leonard finally looks away, Barry struggles to heave in a deep, shuddering gasp. He wants to go to the older man, ask him to dance, ask him to fuck, hot and dirty in the back of a bathroom stall like he’s never dared to ask anyone before. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, Barry lets Caitlin and Iris drag him over to dance with the queens. He lets some random guy slide up behind him, lets Leonard do the same to a man who looks too much like Barry to be a coincidence. 

When the older man’s eyes lock pointedly with his own across the dance floor, Barry knows for sure that it isn’t. 

Just as it had before, time slows to a crawl. Every breath Barry takes feels heavy, his chest struggling to rise and fall under the oppressive weight of Leonard’s stare. He grinds back experimentally into the anonymous body behind him, and a wave of heat overtakes him as he sees the thief draw in a deep, ragged breath across the room, his own hips rolling forward absently in response. 

While the electric exchange can’t last more than a few minutes, it feels like hours pass before Barry juts his chin toward the exit and slips out of his partner’s arms. He doesn’t look back to see if Leonard’s following him. He can feel the heat of the other man’s gaze of his back. 

When Barry steps outside, he feels like he’s finally able to breathe for the first time since entering the club. The air is crisp and clear, at least in contrast, and Barry gulps greedy lungfuls like a drowning man. 

He knows the second Leonard joins him on the curb, even though the older man remains silent. He can feel that, too. 

Barry doesn’t know what to say, still painfully turned on, and a bit unsettled, from the moment they’d just shared inside. 

So, he settles for small talk. 

“It’s a nice night,” the speedster says lamely. 

Leonard huffs a laugh. “Sure,” he monosyllabically replies. 

“You know,” Barry tries again. “The city wasn’t really the same while you were away.” He glances at Leonard from the corner of his eye, but the older man remains impassive. 

“It’s funny,” Barry continues. “I didn’t expect having a nemesis would mean so much to me when first I started this whole hero gig.” 

Leonard chuckles. “And what about now?” he asks, shooting the speedster a contemplative, sidelong look. “Now that we aren’t enemies.” 

Barry offers the other man a small, uncertain shrug. “Maybe we could try being something else instead,” he says, his voice scarcely a whisper, nearly lost in the noise filtering out from the club. He clears it self-consciously before speaking again. “Lisa mentioned that yours and Mick’s relationship is a bit…” he trails off, considering his words. “Unorthodox.” 

Leonard’s head tilts, and his eyes narrow to slits. “Did she, now?” is all he says in reply. 

Nervous, Barry swallows. “Yeah,” he croaks. “She told me about Sara, that the three of you were together. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” 

Guarded, the thief shrugs. “It’s not the kind of thing that works for everyone,” he says simply. 

“Yeah,” Barry replies. “But if it were?” 

Barry can sense Leonard’s eyes on him, and, hesitantly, he looks over to return the older man’s stare.

“What are you asking me, Barry?” 

Instead of answering with words, slowly - ever so slowly, giving Leonard ample time to stop him - Barry wraps a broad palm around the curve of the older man’s neck and pulls him in for a deep, earth-shattering kiss. 

Barry feels like the ground is shifting under his feet. Leonard’s lips, rough and warm against his own, are everything he’s ever imagined they’d be. It kills him to pull away, to lose the desperate point of contact, but his lungs are screaming at him for air, and he knows Leonard’s must be doing the same. 

“Are you sure about this?” the older man asks the second their lips part. His fist clenches and unclenches around Barry’s hip, like he’s afraid the speedster might disappear. “Mick and I are a package deal.”

“I know,” Barry afirms. “And I’m sure. I wanna be with you, Len. No matter what that relationship looks like, I just wanna be with you.” 

The thief draws in a sudden, suddering breath. “Will you come home with me?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically raw and vulnerable. 

Quickly, Barry nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, absolutely. I wanna go home with you.” 

Without another word, Leonard takes a single step just off the curb and raises an arm, eyes never leaving Barry’s, to hail a cab. When the yellow taxi pulls up alongside them, Leonard opens the door and holds it open, gesturing for Barry to go in first. 

As Barry slides into the back seat, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to send Iris a quick text. 

_ Leaving with Snart _ , he writes.  _ Get home safe _ . 

In the time it takes for Leonard to climb into the cab beside him, Barry’s phone buzzes with a reply.

_ ;) _

The speedster starts as he feels the sudden pressure of a hand on his knee. Warm fingers rub absent patterns into his skin as Leonard gives the driver his address. A string of rainbow beads hangs from the rearview mirror, and Barry settles comfortably into his seat, head resting heavy against Leonard’s shoulder. 

Leonard’s hand moves from Barry’s knee to twin their fingers together, and Barry places an absent kiss against the older man’s collar. The speedster’s never been one for PDAs in the back of some unsuspecting person’s cab, but he can’t help himself from leaning up to capture Leonard’s lips in a slow, steady kiss as they weave in and out of traffic. 

When they arrive at the address Leonard provided, a mid-sized apartment building that’s neither cheap nor expensive, the older man pays the fare with a crisp bill and pulls Barry out onto the sidewalk, leaving behind a generous tip for their driver. 

They can’t get into the building quick enough. 

As soon as the doors to the elevator close and Leonard presses the button for his floor, they’re all over each other. Barry pulls him in by the belt loops and presses a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of the older man’s neck. He keeps trailing kisses up the thief's neck until he spins around to claim Barry’s mouth with his own. 

Barry finds himself pressed up against the wall, Leonard’s hot, probing tongue delving expertly into his mouth. When the elevator  _ dings  _ and the doors slide open, Leonard grabs Barry by the shirtfront and pulls the speedster toward his apartment backwards, their lips still locked desperately together. 

Barry hardly notices that the light is already on in the apartment when the two men stumble through the door. It’s only once a throat clears, low and husky, that Barry’s brain comes back online. He pulls out of Leonard’s arms instantly and searches the room for the source of the noise. 

He finds it easily. Mick’s sitting on the sofa in the apartment’s open concept living space, a lighter raised in front of his face, the flame open but temporarily forgotten. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” the arsonist teases, his voice a deep, tantalizing rumble that sends a shiver up Barry’s spine. 

“I thought I told you not to wait up for me,” Leonard drawls. His hand is still pressed to the small of Barry’s back. 

Mick chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “I can see why. I assume you’ve told the kid about us?” 

Leonard nods. “He’s aware,” the thief replies. “And on board.” 

“Well,” Mick says. He stands from the sofa and flicks the lighter closed, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll just get out of your hair, then.” 

He takes a few steps toward to door, but then hesitates as he notices the dangerous glint in Barry’s eyes. “Or maybe not,” he amends. 

“Barry?” Leonard asks, his tone cautious yet curious. 

Barry swallows thickly. “Would it be okay?” he hears himself ask, like he’s outside of his own body, adrenaline making his head spin. “If Mick stayed?” 

Behind him, Barry can feel Leonard shudder. “Yeah,” the thief croaks. “Yeah, that would be okay. Mick?” 

The arsonist nods. “Definitely okay,” he confirms. 

Barry feels the breath leave his lungs as Mick advances on him. It’s should probably be terrifying, but Barry thinks it feels exhilarating instead. When Mick’s broad hands grab him by the hips, the speedster’s whole body shivers, and when the arsonist captures his lips in a hot, demanding kiss, his knees almost give out entirely. Leonard’s firm weight along his back, though, along with Mick’s strong hands, keeps him upright. 

Leonard begins trailing kisses along the column of Barry’s neck, and the speedster groans wantonly into Mick’s mouth. 

“Bedroom,” Barry rasps. It sounds almost pathetically like begging, but the younger man can’t bring himself to care. 

Chuckling darkly, Mick gives Barry a thorough once-over, raking his eyes up and down his trembling body. “You’re certainly eager,” he remarks. 

Barry can only nod. He shivers as Leonard’s fingers slide under the hem of his tank top, guiding it up. Obidently, Barry raises his arms, allowing the thin fabric to be pulled over his head and dropped carelessly to the floor. Barry turns his head to kiss the thief over his shoulder and, to compensate, Mick lowers his mouth to suck a hickey into Barry’s neck. 

In a tangle of limbs, the three men make their way to the bedroom, stumbling over furniture and one another’s feet as they go. When the door shuts behind them with a resounding  _ thud _ , Barry’s blood pressure skyrockets. His pulse thunders rapidly. He can feel it in his chest, in his wrists, in his neck. He’s sure Mick and Leonard can feel it too, pressed so close against him. 

“Off,” Barry pants, grabbing at Mick’s shirt and tugging. With a chuckle, Mick steps back to pull the garment over his head, bulging muscles and textured scars bared in the dim lighting of the room. Immediately, Barry pulls him for another desperate, needy kiss, and Leonard’s hand drop to his belt buckle. He’s already painfully hard in his jeans, and getting out of the constricting denim is a welcome proposition. 

Stripped of his pants, Leonard draws Barry back to lay him out on the large, king-sized bed. “You ever done this before?” the thief asks. 

Barry raises an eyebrow. “What?” he wonders. “A threesome?” 

Curtly, Leonard nods. 

“Yeah,” Barry replies. “A few times. Never in this configuration, though.” 

Mick chuckles. “Don’t worry, Kid,” he says. “We’ll follow your lead.” 

And, weirdly enough, Barry is one hundred percent certain they will. That he could ask either man to back off at any time, and they would. Of course, that’s how it’s supposed to be, Barry knows, but he’s still a bit surprised. They’ve come a long way from trying to kill each other. 

Grabbing Barry by the shins, Leonard drags him down the length of the bed until his feets, with his legs spread and raised, rest comfortably on the edge of the mattress. The thief sinks to his knees, his shirt discarded somewhere alongside Mick’s, and the image sends a shock of heat through Barry’s body. 

Searching, Leonard raises and eyebrow, and immediately, Barry nods. The older man drags Barry’s underwear down his thighs and holds eye contact as he wraps his lips around the head of Barry’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Barry groans, eyes slipping involuntarily shut, back arching up every so slightly into the silky, wet heat of Leonard’s mouth. He feels the weight of the bed shift beside him and pries his eyes open to see Mick sitting beside him, pants and underwear gone, cock in his hand. 

“Oh, fuck,” Barry says again, this time a soft, shrill whine. He runs one hand through his hair, grip almost painfully tight, while the other falls to Mick’s thigh. Barry runs his fingers upward through coarse hair until he reaches the arsonist's cock and wraps his hand around it, just above Mick’s own. 

The older man groans. “Fuck, you two look good,” he says. “My cock in your hand. Your cock in his mouth.” 

An uncontrollable tremor rips through Barry’s body as Mick speaks, and the arsonist hums appreciatively. “You like that?” he asks, voice husky and low. 

“Yeah,” Barry replies, gasping as his cock hits the back of Leonard’s throat. 

“Which part?” Mick probes. “Come on, Barry. Tell me what you like.” 

Again, Barry shudders. “I have a bit of a thing for dirty talk,” he admits, blush rising to his cheeks. “Verbal encouragements. Guidance. That sort of thing.” 

Mick moans as Barry’s hand starts vibrating around his cock. “Pet names?” he asks. “Or something a bit more demeaning?” 

“Both are good,” Barry replies. His breath is coming in short, shallow pants. “Objectification” - a hiss as Leonard’s tongue circles his shaft - “objectification is good, too. But I prefer praise to degradation, so just, use your discretion. I’ll tell you if you do something I don’t like.” 

Suddenly, Leonard hums around his cock, and Barry has to pull his hand from around Mick’s member as a violent burst of speed causes him to spasm uncontrollably. 

“Holy shit,” Barry pants, hand fisting in the sheets instead. “You’ve gotta ease up, Len. I’m so close.” 

Leonard pulls off Barry’s cock with an obscene sucking sound. “Should have figured you’d be fast all around,” he teases. 

Almost manically, Barry laughs. “Please,” he says. “I’m so turned on I think my brain is melting. I’d like to see you last longer.” 

Leonard smirks. “Is that a challenge?” he asks. 

Barry smirks right back. “I don’t know,” he says. “Do you want it to be?” 

Strong hands on Barry’s waist maneuver him into a sitting position, his back flush against Mick’s broad, warm chest. He settles back against the older man as Leonard joins them on the bed, stopping briefly to remove his pants and underwear, and making a quick detour to the nightstand to grab a jar of lube and a condom. 

Mick guides Barry’s thighs open, and Leonard settles between them. Mick places wet, searing kisses against Barry’s neck as Len coats his fingers in slick. 

“Mick and I are both vers,” he says, tone unfairly conversational, like nothing that’s happening is of any consequence, as he rubs his fingers to warm the lube. “So there’s no pressure. However you wanna do this, Barry.” 

The speedster swallows thickly. “Can you fuck me?” he asks, holding Leonard’s gaze. 

Leonard smirks. “If that’s what you want.” 

As Leonard’s slick fingers move to tease Barry’s entrance, Mick takes the speedster’s cock in his hand and strokes it, long and slow. Barry moans wantonly, his whole body squirming, so Mick wraps a hand around his chest to hold him in place. 

“Does that feel good, Scarlet?” Mick asks, rough and filthy in Barry’s ear. Something about hearing Leonard’s signature nickname from the arsonist instead sends a white hot pang of arousal shooting up Barry’s spine. “Len’s fingers, teasing you, pressing against your hole, itching to be inside you.” 

Barry whines, embarrassingly loud, as his body spasm. “Fuck,” he pants, and Mick nips firmly at his ear. “Holy fuck, keep talking.” 

One of Leonard’s long, deft digits chooses that moment to press inside of him, and Barry’s eyes fly open to hold the older man’s gaze. Leonard’s finger thrusts in and out, in and out, and the thief bites playfully at the inside of Barry’s thigh, just the right side of painful. 

Barry moans. 

“I could watch Lenny fuck you with his fingers all night,” Mick rasps, breath hot against Barry’s neck, hand even hotter around his cock. “Bringing you closer and closer to coming, again and again until you’re begging for it, crying for it, like a good little slut.” 

This time, even Mick’s hand around Barry’s middle can’t stop the speedster’s body from arching upwards, chasing more stimulation, forcing Leonard’s finger even further inside himself. 

“Fuck,” Barry keens, every one of his muscles shaking. 

A second finger joins the first. 

“Then,” Mick continues, his breathing quickly becoming more laboured, more irregular. “Once you’ve proven how much you really want it, I’ll let Lenny give you his cock. It’ll feel so good, Angel. I promise. Splitting you open. His cock is so big. You think you can take it?” 

“Please,” Barry whines, tears pricking at the back of his eyes. 

Against his shoulder, Mick huffs a laugh. “Please what, Barry?” he prompts. His hand stills on Barry’s cock, and the younger man immediately mewls in protest. “You’ve gotta use your words, Doll.” 

“Please, just hurry,” Barry pants. “I need Len’s cock so bad, please.” 

Apparently satisfied with Barry’s answer, Mick’s hand slips from the younger man’s cock and trails downward until one of his thick fingers is pressing into Barry’s hole alongside his partner’s. Barry’s cock twitches furiously, and he throws his head back, burying his face in the bend of Mick’s neck to drown out a moan, sucking intently at the salty flesh beneath his lips. 

“Is that better, Scarlet?” the arsonist asks. 

All Barry can offer in reply is a broken moan. 

“Come on, Mick,” Leonard chuckles, pulling his fingers from Barry’s ass. The speedster instantly whines at the loss. “Barry’s been such a good boy all evening. I think he ought to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

“Fuck, yes,” Barry groans before Mick has a chance to answer. The arsonist laughs softly and places an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to the top of Barry’s head.  

“Go on, Lenny,” Mick says. “Give it to him. I wanna watch you take him, make him beg. God, it’s always so fucking hot to watch you fuck someone.” 

Leonard chuckles. “I thought you said it was always so fucking hot to watch me get fucked,” the thief challenges. 

Mick smirks. “I can’t mean both?” 

As the two men exchange flirtatious banter, Mick extracts himself from behind Barry so that the younger man can lie flat on his back. Leonard removes the condom from its foil packaging and rolls it down his shaft, reaching for the jar of lube to slick himself up. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Barry muses, running a hand absently through his hair. Leonard grabs one of his thighs and hoists it over his shoulder, then presses a soft, gentle kiss against the pale, creamy skin. 

“I really care about you, you know?” the younger man adds, staring at Leonard throughout the thick curtain of his lashes. 

Earnestly, Leonard nods. “I know, Barry,” he replies. He runs a hand gently down Barry’s stomach, thumb stroking the patch of skin just below the speedster’s navel. “I care about you, too.” 

Then, in one long, slow thrust, Leonard pushes inside of the younger man. Barry’s breath escapes his body as a desperate, high-pitched whine, so the thief leans down to capture his lips in a kiss instead. 

The faint, if persistent, burn of being penetrated is easy to ignore between Leonard’s lips on his and the gentle, almost reverent way Mick’s broad fingers card through his hair. The arsonist has taken his own cock in his hand, stroking it leisurely in time Leonard’s first small, shallow thrusts. 

“Fuck, this feels amazing,” the thief groans. “You feel so, so good, Barry. Perfect on my cock.” 

Barry’s heart stutters in his chest as he’s hit with an intense flood of emotions. “So do you,” the younger man croaks. “So good, Len. Oh, God.” 

As Leonard picks up the pace, hips snapping and rolling more forcefully now that Barry’s had time to adjust, he continues muttering a string of nonsensical venerations against Barry’s skin, into the curve of his neck, around his lips. Mick jumps in with ample praise of his own, more articulate than Leonard’s, until all three men are nearing climax, breathing hard. 

“I’m so close,” Barry gasps, the muscles in his thighs beginning to quiver and shake. 

“Tell me how to get you there, Barry,” Leonard pants. 

Barry shivers. He tilts his head to look over at Mick, still stroking himself as he watches Barry and Leonard fuck, and the younger man wets his lips at the sight. 

“Fuck, Mick,” Barry groans. “Give me your cock. I wanna suck you off.” 

The speedster’s request pulls a strangled moan from the arsonist’s throat. “Fuck, Barry,” he whispers. 

“Please,” Barry adds, and that’s all it takes. Barry tilts his head back as Mick’s sturdy thighs straddle his face. He takes the older man’s cock in his hand and guides it into his mouth. The second his lips wrap around the tip, Mick moans again. 

“Your mouth feels so good,” the arsonist says. “Like it was meant to take my cock.” 

Barry groans, and the vibrations send Mick’s hips careening forward, forcing his cock further down Barry’s throat. The speedster gags, eyes watering, and the older man pulls back immediately. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Mick says at the same time Leonard asks, “are you okay?”  

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Barry replies quickly. “I can go deeper, I just wasn’t ready.” 

Mick frowns. “You don’t have to,” he says. 

“I know,” Barry says. “But I want to. Really, it’s okay. Now, get back over here.” 

Grabbing Mick by the hips, Barry yanks the other man back into position. This time, it’s Mick who uses his hand to guide his cock into Barry’s mouth. Immediately, Barry relaxes the muscles in his throat, taking the arsonist in all the way to the base. 

Leonard’s hips stutter abruptly to a stop at the sight. “Fuck, that’s hot,” the thief pants. 

From there, the three men develop a rhythm, somehow both frantic and slow, punishingly hard yet wonderfully soft all at one. Leonard’s cock finds Barry’s prostate, and the younger man instantly devolves into a trembling mess, Speed Force left completely unchecked and wreaking havoc on his body. 

As the rest of Barry’s body vibrates, so does his throat, and it’s enough to send Mick over the edge. The older man comes with a deep, guttural moan, shooting his load down the back of Barry’s throat. Mick pulls his cock from Barry’s mouth as it softens, letting the younger man draw in a heavy, desperate breath. 

Watching his partner get off pushes Leonard over the edge too. His hips snap vigorously against Barry’s ass, the obscene sound of skin hitting skin making Barry see stars, along with the the unrelenting stimulation of his prostate. Both men come within a breath of one another, Leonard first, Barry just after. 

“Holy shit,” Barry pants, hand raking through his sweat-soaked hair, and Leonard collapses on the mattress beside him. “That was…” 

But he can’t find the words. 

“Yeah,” Mick agrees, equally as eloquent. “That was.” 

Leonard’s the only one not fucked into a stupor, and Barry thinks that’s only because being in such a state might actually kill him. The thief gets up and disposes of the condom, grabbing a wet washcloth from the bathroom at the same time. He tosses it wordless to Barry so that the younger man can clean himself off, his cum splattered, undignified, across the ridges of his abs. 

As the sweat cools against Barry’s skin, and he feels a small shiver rip through his body. Mick pulls back the covers with a small grunt and gestures for Barry to slide underneath, which the younger man does instantly. 

Mick feels like a space heater as he wraps himself around Barry’s back. Leonard climbs into bed on the opposite side and lays facing the speedster, breath mingling as their legs intertwine.

“How are you feeling?” Leonard asks, voice a hushed whisper in the silence of the night. 

“Tired,” Barry replies immediately, and the older man can’t help but laugh. “Good,” the speedster amends once his brain has caught up with the true intention behind Leonard’s question. “I’m feeling good.” 

“Get some sleep,” Mick mumbles into the nape of Barry’s neck. “We’ll do waffles in the morning. I make the real deal, cast iron pan and everything.” 

Dopey with sleep, Barry smiles. “Oh yeah,” he sighs. “This relationship is gonna work out just fine.” 

It doesn’t take long for the speedster to drift off into a deep, blissful sleep. Leonard looks at Mick over Barry’s shoulder as he draws in slow, steady breaths and smiles fondly. Contented, the other man smiles back. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/).


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